


The Best Possible Kind Of Shivers

by orphan_account



Series: Of Stardust And Hospital Beds [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Established Relationship, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self-Harm Recovery, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:45:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard's been back at home for precisely a week and two days now, and it's the first time Frank's coming to visit again.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>"Stage one is when you make the decision.<br/>Stage two is reaching out for support.<br/>After that, all you can do is fight.<br/>Fight like fucking hell."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Possible Kind Of Shivers

**Author's Note:**

> my heart hurt just a little writing this, so it better be good
> 
> also probably going to get started on the prequel(s? we'll see) soon (You're Kind Of Like Medicine), so get hyped
> 
> xxo MS

Gerard was excited.

It had been a week and two days since he'd gotten home from the hospital, and he swore to God (or whoever might be in charge of things like that) that if it was up to him, he would never step foot there again, as he was one hundred percent convinced that the mental ward in Belleville General Hospital was the scariest place he had ever stayed at. Gee had been there for just over a month and a half, and being back at home felt like heaven compared to those last few months, spent in both the hospital bed and the mental department, which he was doing his best not to remember as much as he could.

The thing that had landed him there in the first place had taken place February 4th, a date he was bound to keep in mind for the rest of his life, it seemed. The memories of it seemed so vivid that it could've happened yesterday that he sliced vertically down his left arm, cutting deep enough to black out into a state of "temporary death", as he called it, for two weeks.

After those weeks were over, he stayed bedridden another week before being transferred over into the Mental Health Inpatient (or something) Program, where he was forced to stay under regular observation for about a month. There was no such thing as privacy, especially for patients with even moderately similar cases to him; listed as "highly suicidal, suffering from panic disorder, manic-depressive with mild bipolar and anorexic tendencies". You had a psychiatrist, you had a therapist, you had your pills and, if anorexic tendencies were enlisted, day-to-day weighing, you had lectures and lessons, enemies and friendships and that was what you lived with for however long it took. 

But that was over now, and home felt like a safe haven, like an escape from the prison he was objected to not long ago. Gee wasn't okay, but he was better.

-

Gerard was in his room, painting. 

When he returned home, his room had been painted white, covering up the old, peeling (yet homely) dark blue under. Surprisingly, he didn't actually mind that much, as long as he got to do what he wanted with the place. In art therapy (one of the only things (except for Lindsey, his stoic borderline personality roommate) that managed to cherish him, even if just for a while), he had been taught to unleash his emotions by splattering paint on the walls of the room. Although skeptic at first, Gerard soon found that the method was actually quite brilliant, as he found himself getting lost into flicking rainbows and starbursts of color everywhere he could.

Now, he was painting the ceiling of his room in a palette of dark grays, blues, violets and black, occasionally dancing to the beat of whatever song was on the radio sitting on his desk. He was planning to cover the whole thing in silver stars after he was done, using the splatter method again. After a long time, Gee was finally truly focused on something again, and that was probably the best state he could be in at the moment.

"Gerard, someone's here for you!" He snapped out of his daze (and almost fell off the chair he was stood on - he was pretty sure he splashed blue paint on his hair in the process) and slid down the railing of the steps, brush still in hand. "Who is it, Ma?" He soon found confirmation to his previous thoughts as his eyes landed on the black-haired boy standing in his living room. Gee's lips curved into a grin as he ran to hug Frank, who hugged him back just as tight. Hand in hand, the boys went upstairs.

-

"Wow. You're painting again?" Frank examined the room with wide eyes. Gee nodded with a smile on his face. "I'll d-do the whole ceiling like that, and then I think I'll do like, stars, with silver, y'know? I-I think it'll look really n-nice!" Frank smiled. "Yeah, me too. You're okay talking? I mean, I don't want to pressure you or anything-" "Frankie, it's alright. I'm- well, not alright, b-but I'm better. Talking is f-fine, really, I just stutter a l-lot, y'know, it's been a w-while," Gerard said, dropping the brush back into the paint and managing to splatter the sleeves of his sweater violet. "Fuck," He exclaimed, rolling up his sleeves. Frank laughed a little, but soon stopped as his eyes landed on the other boy's arms. He looked up at Gee.

"Show me your arms," He murmured. Gee sighed and laid out his arms in front of Frank.

The younger boy took Gerard's hands in his and lightly ran his fingers over the skin on the inside of his arm. The boy's arms were littered with scars of various sorts: there were lighter burns and cuts by a blade, pinches and scratches and everything in between. But running his fingers across them, he could not feel or see any new ones. Frank knew by heart which were from last year and which from last month, but they were all healing. None were newer than six weeks. Frank felt the corners of his mouth curve up into a grin. He looked back up at Gerard.

"No new ones," He said softly, still beaming. Gee nodded vigorously. "I've been clean ever since.. t-the attempt." His voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I could not live t-through another two w-weeks like t-those were, those when I was.. out.." He trailed off, shaking it off and laughing a little, not wanting to ruin his mood. "Guess my paranoia is helping me for once."

Frank let go of Gee's hands. "I don't think I could either," He mumbled. 

"Y'know, I c-could hear everything, though. And I could feel things. I just wasn't able to r-respond. And I am p-positive that I will one day k-kill Mikey for letting Mom play Bananarama from t-the radio." Frank chuckled at that. "Everybody loves Venus, don't even try to deny it," He stated, earning a smack in the head with a pillow in response. "Well, you ain't better than him, mister-I-love-Cher-more-than-my-parents!" Gerard put his hand on his heart, faking offense. "How d-dare you insult the Goddess of Pop, p-peasant!" "You hurt me and my precious feelings!" They both fell onto the bed in a laughing fit.

Somehow, some way, Frank ended up on top of his best friend, balancing himself on his hands above Gerard's shoulders. They both looked at each other in the eyes and smiled again. 

"Your hipbones don't hurt me anymore. That's awfully pleasant," Frank commented, half-joking still. "I hurt you?" Gee questioned, sitting up against the bedframe. "Used to. When you were stick thin. I used to feel your hipbones cut into me when I held you, and I could feel your ribs through whatever you were wearing. It was scary, because I knew nobody should be like that. There is no purpose for an armor so thin," He placed his hand right over Gerard's heart. "that you can feel what it's protecting right through it." Gee swallowed and his gaze fell down, before meeting Frank's again and piercing through him with emotions of a varying kind.

"If I can't be beautiful without hurting you.." He trailed off for a few silent seconds, then slowly placed his hand over Frank's on his chest. "It won't be worth it."

"You are beautiful, love. And I promise, I will devote myself into making sure that you'll once see it too." The younger boy's tone was confident, yet still gentle, as if he was afraid that Gerard was made of porcelain and might break at even the slightest touch. He moved closer to his boy. "Can I kiss you?" Frank whispered. Gerard only nodded, feeling paralyzed suddenly as the boys' lips met. Gee melted into the other boy's touch, kissing back with the little strength he had. Gerard draped his arms around Frankie's neck, the boy twisting his hand in Gee's hair. Gerard felt the familiar warmth of contact (one that only Frank, his Frankie could provide) streaming through his veins, felt the cool touch of Frank's lip ring and his fucking perfect lips against his own as the world disappeared from around them.

And that is the story of how the two boys ended up making out on Gerard's bed to the sound of Do You Really Want To Hurt Me playing in the background.

 

-


End file.
